


Ossia: In Another Dream

by Maisunadokei1856



Series: Pandora Hearts Month 2018 [4]
Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 17:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maisunadokei1856/pseuds/Maisunadokei1856
Summary: Oswald, who failed to change the past, meets his end on a snow-covered ground.But as his soul dissipates and his consciousness fades, he sees in his dreams visions of other pasts and other futures, other stories that involved the unholy trinity he was a part of.Or maybe it was the Abyss, allowing him a last glimpse into what could have been in his world, and what probably was in others.





	1. Vision I: The Lonely Musician

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd mess I wrote for the 2018 Pandora Hearts Month's Tragedy Trio week, the prompt was: "AUs".  
> I am not a native English speaker and I am sure I left many broken expression, so please feel free to point them out, I will gladly correct it.

Darkness and silence were first interrupted by the sound of a piano, and he opened his eyes to a room he didn’t remember seeing before. It was nothing nearly as spacious as what his chambers had looked like back in the Baskervilles’ estate, but this was big and refined enough for him to recognize it unmistakably as a noble’s property. A single blonde man was sitting at the piano, playing a music that felt foreign and extremely familiar at the same time, much like the man himself. Oswald took several steps towards him, but he didn’t seem to even feel his presence. As he grew closer though, he could make out very unsettling details about him.

Jack’s hair only reached to his shoulders, and he was dressed all in black. His face looked more mature, and he guessed he should be at least a decade or two older than when he knew him, and yet it only made his fine features look even more delicate, although he also looked quite tired. It felt wrong to see him like this, because as far as he knew, Jack was all bright colors and bright smiles and too much energy for his own good. He was however still wearing Lacie’s earrings, a familiar piece in a person who felt different in every other aspect.

As for the music itself, he was sure he never listened to this piece before, but the logic behind the succession of notes and chords made too much sense to him, it was almost as though he could guess every part before hearing it. Actually, both the chords and the melody took him back to memories from before the tragedy, and although some notes were not quite what he expected them to be, it dawned on him that this was definitely a piece he had started writing long ago, but never finished. Sure enough, when he glanced at the music score over the blonde’s shoulder, it was signed “Oswald B.”. The blonde’s fingers seemed to move on their own though, hardly even staring at the score, as if he had it memorized from playing it too many times. When the last note died, he shut his eyes, emerald orbs hiding behind pale eyelids, and the room fell into deafening silence.

"Jack…?” he tried calling.

But the blonde didn’t react, apparently completely unaware of his presence. Ever so carefully, he held his hand to put it on the other man’s shoulder, but his hand passed through him as if he were air, as though he was only an illusion projected by the light. But maybe he was himself the illusion? A faint metallic sound brought his attention to Jack’s hand that now held a golden pocket watch he knew far too well. The object, along with the earrings, stood out in the middle of the Vessalius’ new sober look, and conjured the faraway image of bright gold and bright green.

“Say, Oswald…”

Startled, Oswald looked at Jack’s face. Did he actually hear him, see him, or even feel him? Or was he talking to an image his mind summoned by looking at that pocket watch, their shared creation? He thought back to what this watch symbolized to him personally, and he closed painfully his eyes, waiting for the blonde’s next words:

“In a world where there is neither you nor Lacie anymore, just what should I do…?”

The faintest traces of surprise got on Oswald’s face as he tried to piece together whatever this place or time or dream was. This Oswald Jack talked about couldn’t have died by Jack’s hands in Sablier if he had had the time to finalize his composition, and had Jack committed that sin, he probably wouldn’t have been able to age after that, his body locked in an eternal cycle of rejuvenating and aging back again. Was this even a dream? Or was it one of the several possible stories the Jury talked about?

The pocket watch opened in a faint click, and a tune that couldn’t have been more familiar filled the room.

Lacie.

He had composed it, Lacie had sung lyrics she wrote herself over it, and Jack had named it after his sister and made it into a music box. It was a warm and melancholic tune, a succession of notes that symbolized everything they shared and everything they destroyed and everything they lost forever. And maybe, just maybe, to this Jack, this melody conveyed that exact meaning because when he opened his eyes again, hollow emeralds stared lifelessly at the ceiling. Had Jack looked so lost and dejected when Lacie died? Well, in a sense, he had looked even worse than that. When he broke the news of Lacie’s death to him, when he had seen his reaction, he didn’t think he would be seeing him ever again. But then, his former master, Levi gave him that sick hope that brought only disaster.

But something in his presence was quite different from that time. His whole being didn’t feel as empty as if he hadn’t been there. Instead, it radiated loneliness and regret you could feel even if he didn’t voice them. He had never seen Jack so open before, and he wondered if it was because he was alone or if something happened in all those years to make him this way. Or maybe that was the conclusion he would have reached, had he not gotten that twisted hope that destroyed him and then almost destroyed the whole world. He halted his thoughts for a moment. If Levi hadn’t reached out to him in his despair… Then who did?

"That time, because I couldn’t bear to see the same thing happen again, I took Vincent away from Glen in secret. I know that even though I tried to hide it, you must have guessed what I did. But you never confronted me about it, never asked anything, you simply declared Vincent dead and proceeded with the ceremony… That made me wonder, Oswald, wasn’t that because you wished someone could’ve done that for you, too?”

Suddenly, a sigh crossed the blonde’s lips, and he let his head fall in his palms, elbows on his knees, his hands gripping painfully some of his golden strands.

“I should never have gotten involved with the Baskevilles.” he breathed, his lament a muffled sound he could hardly make out.

As the vision of the room around him and everything in it shattered, and he felt his consciousness slowly leave him, he thought this was how things were supposed to be. Jack was only a human, they were Baskervilles. Their worlds have always been apart, and should never have come together. He should never have tried to get close to them and to grasp the power and knowledge that were rightfully forbidden to mere mortals, ultimately losing every bit of humanity and normalcy he once possessed. And still, with this conclusion, he felt a bitter thought at the back of his mind and he did his best to ignore it.


	2. Vision II: The Free Sister

When he felt the light entering his eyes again, he was in a dim room furnished in a noticeably more modest way than the previous one. It  looked like he was in a small house, but not an uncomfortable one, and  most of all, there was something warm in the atmosphere that felt completely foreign from the impersonal coldness of luxurious mansions.  Out of the window, he could only see a white ground under a terrible snowfall. And sitting in silence on a tapestry near the fireplace were two silhouettes he could recognize with his eyes closed. Neither of them seemed to be engaged in any kind of activity, each of them having their focus on the person next to them, although in ways that felt fundamentally different. Oswald took a few steps towards the pair, and was only mildly surprised when neither noticed his approaching steps.

Once close enough to make their features in the dimly lit room, he couldn’t help but notice how noticeably bigger Lacie’s belly was. _The two Alice,_ Oswald thought, and Jack didn’t seem to mind that inside was not his child. Oswald knew he wouldn’t mind, didn’t love Lacie the way you would expect of a man who only lived for the day he would see her again. His feelings for Lacie were too pure for desire and too twisted for him to ever imagine his existence without her. He loved Lacie to the point of madness, and yet never sought her in an intimate way, quite content with just being by her side and recognizing himself. It was hard to believe that such a distant and abnormal passion, that the longing for such a disinterested relationship could bring the world to the verge of destruction, and yet he witnessed it more than once.

“I want to see my brother.” a beloved voice broke the silence, and he felt his chest tightening from longing and sadness. He wished he could tell her _I’m here_ , that she could somehow hear him and take him in her arms, and he hated himself for it. For ever wishing to receive such comfort from the sister he killed with his own hands.

Jack had looked away, as if regretting his powerlessness and it was so atypical of him. He who, despite having no power to speak of, took on the task of destroying the world if that was Lacie’s wish, nothing else mattering nearly as much. The Jack he knew would have looked Lacie right in the eyes, gave her the brightest, most intoxicating of smiles and promised her to grant her wish in any possible way. Even if that meant kidnapping Oswald and wrapping him as a present to her. He didn’t doubt he would try; hell, maybe he would even manage to succeed, even if a fair fight between them should be over in less than ten seconds. But the Jack who was here was different in a way Oswald was still trying to figure out.

“I’m sorry… I promised Oswald I wouldn’t let you meet anymore,” Jack murmured.

“Oh, this is so unlike you!” she said with an amused voice, leaning on his shoulder and bringing her lips close to his ear in a way that made him shiver and blush. There was nothing Lacie loved more than teasing the ones she liked, and it is only around her that Jack looked so open and unguarded. 

“And here I thought you would not hesitate to go and bring him as a present for me,“ she went on. The words made Oswald’s lips twitch in the faintest of smiles. He always wondered if Lacie couldn’t actually hear his thoughts.

For a moment, Jack stayed silent as if he was carefully considering his words, and that lack of spontaneity seemed to surprise his sister as much as it surprised him.

“Oswald made me promise to keep you two apart,” he revealed, “he said that if you were to meet again, he would have no other choice but to…”

He  could not bring himself to say the next words, but each of them understood them as clearly as if he had. 

“And I don’t want that, Lacie.” he finished, raising reverently his hand as if to touch her face but suddenly stopping his movement, not quite daring to, his hand suspended in the air until Lacie leaned herself into it. Oswald was surprised to find himself silently agreeing to the younger man’s reasoning. It made sense now. This Jack had learned of the secrets of the Baskervilles, of the fate of Children of Misfortune a  lot sooner; maybe it had even been him, Oswald, who had told him. This Jack was not another person, this was just an aspect of his person they never got to witness. The aspect that would put Lacie’s safety before her wishes, because he got the forbidden knowledge soon enough to choose to protect her instead of sinking the world for her sake. Lacie’s teasing grin left place to an expression that held both disappointment and resigned sadness.

“My brother is hopeless and clumsy,” she said, “He may look strong and cold, but he will just let himself get all sad and lonely if no one is there to look out for him.”

Lacie raised her hand to Jack’s face and brushed aside a strand of blonde hair that fell on his right eye, letting her fingers hover near his cheek.

“That is why, Jack,” she started, looking him intently in the eyes, “I need you to be there for him.”

“The one he needs is not me, Lacie,” Jack whispered quietly, and there was the hint of an emotion he couldn’t quite define in his eyes; something that looked vaguely like regret, but not quite that. He doubted anyone could’ve heard anything in that perfectly practiced voice, but he saw it again, how his sister grinned in that teasing way of hers, and how she giggled though her eyes held no amusement. 

“Now, now, don’t be stupid, Jack,” Lacie lectured, “you don’t need to be me, you just have to be his friend.”

Jack looked away, unsure for a moment, and Oswald thought back to when Lacie died and he had been the one to break the news to Jack, to when he powerlessly stared as his friend turned back and left to his home without a word, thinking the same thing to himself: _the one he needs is not me_. He knew now that had been a mistake, he knew anything would have been better than Levi giving him hope in the worst way and at the worst time possible. Jack might not have been completely convinced by Lacie’s words, but it certainly made no difference, because he would accept any and every single one of her words, whether she was right or wrong. Oswald had to admit, though, that Lacie was right most of the time; and even when she was wrong, he was still the one who needed to apologize.

“I understand, Lacie,” Jack agreed, his face a sweet smile, a faint blush and insane eyes that looked as though they were not quite there. Lacie looked at him, a sick fascination in her eyes, before she closed them and smiled.

“Lacie?”

She put a hand on his forehead and another on his shoulder, carefully pulling him down and making his head rest on her lap, and she smirked at Jack’s flustered face. Lacie enjoyed most the pained and embarrassed faces of her favorite people, and it seemed she took some pride in being the only one who could draw these expressions out of Jack. As she adjusted herself to make their new position more comfortable, she seemed to notice something, and suddenly, her head jerked in his direction, surprised ruby eyes locking with disbelieving amethysts. Those red eyes of misfortune that defy the impossible and see the most unnatural of things.

 She seemed to regain composure a lot quicker than him -as always-, and gave him a bright, happy smile he never saw ever since they were children. As she grew up and realized her fate, Lacie’s smiles grew to become either mocking, sad, or playful, but this sight took his breath away. He never thought he could get to  see Lacie free and so openly happy to see him, and he wished to treasure this sight forever.

“Lacie ? Is someone there ?”

Lacie’s focus returned to the blonde, to both Oswald’s regret and relief, and she put one hand across his face, covering his emerald eyes and making him close them.

"No Jack, nothing. Sleep, now.”

The lie was obvious, even to someone who was not as good as Jack at seeing through people’s deceptiveness. But since it was Lacie, he would force himself to believe it, to accept it, whatever it was.

And again, the world around him slowly started to fade away and he was left alone, falling back to unconsciousness. He felt himself strangely satisfied with the conclusion he had just seen, happy with how things unfolded.  Oswald and Lacie may be separated forever, but that he was brave enough to defy his duty in that one moment when it mattered made everything else seem meaningless. And the sight of his sister finally enjoying freedom from her unfortunate fate was so precious that he wished with all his heart this could have been true, that he could have granted her that. But the fact that Lacie actually saw him, the thought that this story might not be a dream but yet another reality was strangely comforting, in its own way.


	3. Vision III: The Unfortunate Lord

The sight that greeted him next was, to his greatest surprise, his  very own. He was clad in his usual clothes, and over his shoulders was the dark cape he had started wearing as soon as he became Glen. The sun was high in the sky, the fresh grass shone brightly under it, and he was sitting calmly under a sycamore tree, a silent scenery if not for the song of the birds, and the occasional sound of the wind in the trees.

The scene looked so peaceful, yet to more keen eyes, it was clear that his whole being was in chaos. He was sitting completely still, his back resting against a tree under a beautiful spring sky, and yet not one bird approached him like they used to. If anything, they actually seemed repelled by his presence. And their intuition was right, as the Abyssal power emanating from his bandaged body that was falling  apart felt almost tangible, even to the presence of his alternate self that didn’t quite belong to this world. And in his only visible amethyst eye -the other veiled behind white fabric, crushing loneliness and infinite turmoil and guilt shone painfully. It felt extremely wrong for Oswald  to be observing himself from the outside, reading and guessing his own feelings, incapable of feeling the emotion for himself. He thought back  to Jack’s confession on his own twisted nature back at Sablier, and he  wondered if this was actually how the world felt to the blonde. If he had felt himself like a separate person he could only observe like an outsider would.

“Lord Glen?”

His musings were interrupted  by a familiar voice and he turned around to see the pink-haired woman behind him taking careful steps towards his alternate self, completely unaware of his own presence, unsurprisingly so.

“That is not my name anymore, Charlotte. Just call me Oswald.”

Lottie  looked away as though this was not the first time she was told so.  Nevertheless, she closed the distance that separated them, standing  respectfully beside the tree, not daring to face her old master but  stealing shy glances every so often.

“Are you… in pain?” came her sad inquiry in a pained voice, her hand gripping her own arm.  Concern was painted on her face just as clearly as the fear of her question being inappropriate for the man she respected so. Oswald did  not seem to mind, however, and he answered naturally, with no great deal of emotion:

“I am fine. This body won’t stay together long enough to see tomorrow anyway.”

A  sad flash passed in Lottie’s uniquely colored eyes, but she was aware  that Oswald was not simply brushing her concern off by saying _I am  fine_. Anyone who got close to him knew better, that Oswald was not the kind to sugarcoat facts or to bother with comforting words. He was a blunt man, honest to a fault, his straightforwardness usually coming off as rudeness. He had no talent with words, and could only deliver his  thoughts the way he could express them. So even though it was obvious he was in extreme pain, he also sincerely didn’t mind it, his emotional pain probably great enough to overshadow it.

“Could it be… that you still think of _him_?”

At  these words, his other self suddenly clenched one of his fists hard enough to look painful, even without taking into account the decaying state of his  body. Lottie had apparently noticed it, because she continued:

“Please do not blame yourself. You absolutely did nothing wrong.”

Oswald shook lightly his head.

“No,” he disagreed, “It was my naivety and weakness that put you all in danger. I had made a grave mistake that cost so many lives.”

This time, Lottie suddenly faced him, vehemently disproving his last words:

“That’s not true! You never were at fault, and you only did what was  right! You saved us and everyone in this city, even though… Even though… “ she trailed off, unsure if whatever she was planning to say in her outburst was a good idea, if it wasn’t inconsiderate or inappropriate. It was probably hard to take Oswald’s feelings into account when he almost never showed them,

“Even though I had to cast _him_ into the Abyss? That is not something I regret, he had earned it. And I put the world in a great danger by allowing him close.”

Lottie fell silent and looked troubled. He guessed they were talking about Jack - who _else_ could it be anyway, and he knew Lottie had never been fond of the blonde. Even so, she seemed extremely careful when talking about him, as though the only mention of him could either anger or sadden her master, or maybe both. Eventually though, and without being prompted, the dying Lord Glen elaborated, breaking whatever taboo was around Jack, probably for the first time.

"But…  Ultimately, he was my friend. And I failed to do something to  save him before it was too late. And for this, I made him disappear from this  world forever."

… Much like my own sister, his own mind completed. It couldn’t have been a fortunate existence, to live by one’s duty and die by it, and destroy forever the few close people one had, no matter how rightful it was, no matter how inevitable. This was yet another world where the three of their souls were removed from the one hundred years cycle, never to meet again, but where, at the very least, they didn’t bring the world and countless innocent lives down with them. This was his last thought as he drifted back into unconsciousness, occasionally making out random shards of this vision in the back of his mind until he could no more.

* * *

 

_“Jack Vessalius_

By _my chains of Conviction, I shall now deliver your sentence._

_Your sin, that is…_

_The forbidden contract of a human with a chain,_

_and the attempt to destroy the very chains that support this world. “_

The  voice of Glan resonated in the middle of a deafening silence. An  intimate audience of members of the Baskerville clan were standing  solemnly, their expressions impassible with the exception of a pair of  brothers. The older brother looked conflicted, but ultimately standing  by his master. The younger brother, on the other hand, was clinging to  his sibling, hiding a tear-stained face in the older boy’s shoulder.

The  moment Glen’s words stopped, a myriad of chains appeared to take hold  of the blonde man kneeling before him. A tight, inescapable restraint  that firmly encircled his neck, arms and legs. Through the disarray on  his face, the blonde raised his head and looked up at the strong head of the clan that he was no part of, that he shouldn’t even have been allowed to approach. And through messy, bloody bangs of golden hair, soft lips and bright emerald eyes mustered a single, last smile before the next moment, he was dragged by five black-winged creatures to where he wasn’t ever to return from, in a thunderous sound of rattling chains and screaming beasts.

Silence fell again, and Glen’s expression  remained well guarded, not betraying any emotion or agitation he might  have been experiencing inside, except for a single, subtle tear that ran down his pale cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, part of me wished to see for once someone get sentenced for a valid reason, instead of the tyrannical "because you were born".


	4. Vision IV: The Last Dream

“Hey Oswald! If you sleep in here, you’ll catch a cold!“

It  was a voice all too familiar that broke the silence this time. He opened  his eyes to see a set of emerald eyes, a fair face framed  by golden locks, a single earring, a red teardrop, dangling from his left ear, and a smile as bright as the sun. _And equally as fake,_ a voice in the back of his mind added, and he wished he could silence it but something in his heart kept him from that.

“Quick, let’s go, Lacie’s waiting!“

With  that, he got down to grab his hand, and Oswald half-expected the blonde’s hand  to go through him as if he were air, but the touch felt surprisingly real instead. A soft and warm palm settled on the back of his hand and took a firm hold of it, and the other man got back up, helping him to his feet. Without adding a word, he turned around and started dragging him off somewhere; and for some reason, Oswald couldn’t take his eyes off the man. _Your best friend, Jack,_ part of his mind provided; _that damned traitor, Jack_ , the other part supplied. He wished either of them could just shut up.

The man, Jack, must have noticed his grim mood and the distrustful look in his eyes, because he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to look at him; he smiled reassuringly and took his most soothing voice.

“Why are you so tense? Is something the matter, Oswald?“

Oswald’s hand twitched in the blonde’s own and it didn’t escape his notice. He raised questioning eyes towards the taller man, but waited patiently for him to answer. Oswald on the other hand was at a loss for words; he had never been good at finding them anyway, unlike the man in front of him. He nevertheless looked him firmly in the eyes, suspicious amethysts locking with serene emeralds. To Oswald’s suspicion added the irritation of having no idea what was going on, and he barely noted that he spoke, his voice dripping with hardly contained venom.

“Just what are you thinking? What are you planning?” 

He couldn’t contain the two questions, because in truth, a hundred crowded his mind and his best efforts to silence them were vain. _How can you be doing this? What is the meaning of this? Do you want to make me trust you to better deceive me? This is wrong, this is wrong and I can’t let myself get attached to you again because disaster is never far behind you. I should be killing you, but why won’t my hand move, and what is this pain in my chest I’ve been feeling ever since I saw you again?_

There has been a time where he was ready to kill Jack without the slightest hint of hesitation even when it was a brave, innocent soul controlling his body, because the obsession with his own mistake had been a thick veil that blinded him just the way loneliness and trust had blinded him a hundred years earlier. He had ultimately failed, and in both cases, to realize the contradictions in his mindset that led to disaster. Jack might have been oblivious to the turmoil inside Oswald’s head, but his eyes widened in surprise and in something that looked painfully like hurt and the older man couldn’t help but flinch at the open reaction. 

Jack’s expression quickly settled back to a gentle gaze and a faint smile he had seen him wear precious few times, and instead of letting go of his hand, he felt the grip tighten on its back, and a second hand connect with his palm.

“Oswald, you are my best friend, I will never betray you.“

 _But you did_ , his mind objected in a whisper. _Clear water that flowed surely into the deepest part of your heart and settled in it, making you trust him without even noticing it._

But  wasn’t that just a bad dream? Or was he dreaming right now? He had been seeing so many dreams that in his mind, he couldn’t really tell anymore when the dreams stopped and the memories started. Or maybe they all were real, in some sense or the other. But looking at the green eyes fearlessly and openly staring into his own, he wished it had all been a dream, even as a voice in the back of his mind screamed things couldn’t be that easy. But even if that was true, even if none of the tragedies he witnessed were an illusion, he was dead by now. He had failed and was dead and had left everything to everyone who was left fighting and now none of that was of concern to him anymore. So maybe, just maybe, he could indulge, pretend things were right for once?

Maybe he could try to believe…?

“Come now, Lacie will be angry if you make her wait any longer!” Jack insisted, back to his cheerfulness, “She said I can’t help you eat any tomatoes, so you should be hurrying.“

It was laughable, but the sudden, obvious change of subject succeeded in silencing his mind and the threat actually made him walk quicker. Tales of  tragedies and betrayal grew distant, and he let himself get pulled both physically and mentally into the present situation. And as they walked, his ears started making out, faintly at first, what he recognized to be the sound he loved the most in the world. He hadn’t noticed until now how much he had longed to  hear this voice again, to be enveloped in the warmness of this tone as  it was singing sad words over a nostalgic music he had composed himself. Jack suddenly stopped walking, let go of his hand and looked back at him with concern on his face.

“Oswald, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?“

He couldn’t repress a surprised _huh?_ as  he raised his hand to feel the wet trail of a few tears on his cheeks - and he immediately wiped them. The feeling felt distant, almost foreign, and he couldn’t remember the last time he cried if he tried. Judging by the open disbelief and surprise on Jack’s face, the sight was certainly not familiar to him either.

“It’s nothing,“ he heard himself brush-off, resuming his walk towards the gradually distinct figure and voice of his dear sister. Jack followed right behind.

The song stopped abruptly, and Lacie turned around to look at them, suddenly aware of the nearing sound of their steps. The slightly surprised expression was soon replaced with a smile on her soft lips and a teasing glint in her ruby red eyes. A bright, mesmerizing red that contrasted with the bright green of the fresh grass surrounding her. _It must be the beginning of spring,_ he thought.

“Oh brother, you woke up sooner than I thought!“ she exclaimed, a mocking edge in her voice.

He didn’t answer, but his feet unconsciously carried him towards her and the next moment, he was holding her in his arms, in an embrace so tight that it must have been uncomfortable.

“Brother?” 

Lacie’s voice was filled with unrestrained surprise. When no answer came, she slowly raised her hand and gently stroked his hair, any trace of mischief gone from her unnervingly perceptive eyes of misfortune. Behind them, Jack kept silent, as though he, too, understood.

“Did you have a bad dream, Brother?”

He breathed in and could feel whatever reluctance he still had completely dissipate, his senses invaded by a familiar perfume, a warm contact and a beloved touch.

“I’m fine,” he breathed without loosening his grip, and he felt Lacie’s face twitch in what he guessed was her “My brother is hopeless” smile.

A few minutes passed where nothing disturbed their stillness, and he noted that was quite surprising. He had half-expected Lacie to start teasing him if he kept them too long in that position, or Jack to interrupt with some surprisingly fitting nonsense to dissipate the heavy atmosphere, but none of this happened. Now that he was thinking of it, he thought they both were being a bit too considerate and reassuring. He wasn’t the only one acting weird, all things taken into account. He reluctantly released his hold on Lacie, his hands still brushing over her shoulders as he turned back to where the blonde was.

Scrap that, to where he thought the blonde would be.

“Huh? Where is Jack?” he asked.

Lacie laughed, in that typical way of her that mixed mirth, secretiveness, and that mocking and affectionate edge that simply said “my brother is cute”.

“Really, Brother, you’re too much of an airhead, you make it almost too easy.” 

Apprehension started building in his gut at the sight of that excited flash in his sister’s eyes. Anything that made Lacie happy was good. Few of these things didn’t involve something he wasn’t fond of. And whatever the current plan, Jack was definitely an accomplice and he wondered if this day was going to be over with him strangling the blonde with his own braid.

“Well?” he insisted nonetheless.

“Alright, I’ll tell you. No, actually, I’ll show you. No, that won’t do either…”

He watched, incredulous, Lacie debate with herself, taking on comically exaggerated expressions of thoughtfulness and conflict. At last though, she smiled sweetly at him as though she had figured out the answer to all her interrogations, and looked almost proud as she declared:

“Alright. I’ll let you know, but you will have to follow me. And close your eyes.”

“What?!” he let out in sheer disbelief.

But Lacie was dead serious. She even sneaked a hand in her sleeve and untied a cloth she was hiding inside. A cloth that, in its loose state, looked suspiciously like a blindfold and he wondered, resigned, why he was even surprised.

“No, Lacie,” was the expression of his vain disapproval. 

“Now now, Brother, don’t be like that! “ she raised herself, passed the blindfold around his face and he couldn’t find it in himself to stop her.

This was sounding more of a bad idea by the second.

The next instant, she was holding his hand and pulling him forward, and the feeling of being dragged to a destination he had no idea of was starting to become too familiar for his own taste. Eventually though, he heard a wooden door open and a warm air caressed his face as Lacie carefully lead him through the door, closing it behind. He supposed they were in some house, or any kind of interior for that matter, and he could hear nothing beside the regular sound of burning wood. He felt Lacie’s hands brush over his ear as her fingers worked on untying his blindfold, and the moment the hindering veil was removed, before even his eyes got adjusted to the light, an overly cheerful voice assaulted his ears:

“Happy Birthday, Oswald!” 

With his recovered vision, Oswald took in the sight before him: a neatly-arranged table for three people to have tea, a huge cake in the middle with too many candles on it for him to bother counting, and Jack Vessalius donning a silly hat and a sillier smile. The house they were in was a quite modest one, especially when compared to the luxurious mansions they had known. It was small and warm, and he felt a sense of déjà vu as he looked at the window, then the tapestry beside the fireplace. Oswald found himself at a loss for words, yet again; he couldn’t say he had expected that, neither could he deny the warm feeling the attention brought him, and he might or might not be blushing right now.

“See Jack, I told you my brother wouldn’t figure anything out. He is too cute for that.” 

He wished he could disagree, and whether it was Lacie who pushed him forward or if his own feet moved on their own towards the table, the three of them soon found them seated together around the cake; Oswald quickly counted 28 lighted candles.

They were a very peculiar set, to be sure. The fratricide, the amicicide and the child of misfortune; an unholy trinity who came together and got separated both in a cruel, unlucky twist of fate. In another dream, or maybe another truth, he had killed Lacie in the name of duty, Jack had killed him in the name of Lacie’s wish, and Lacie had caused Jack to destroy himself to the point of cursing the very day they met. They were the cause of each others’  greatest tragedies and misfortunes, and yet they still were the dearest existences in each others’ lives, and that contradiction could have literally caused the world to end. Could still do, as far as he was aware.

“What about Glen?” Oswald asked, still unsure of what situation he was in. “Where is he?”

“Glen?“ Lacie started.

“Who’s that?” Jack finished. 

“You had a bad dream, alright,” his sister concluded.

This felt wrong. This felt right. He didn’t know which one it was. Being surrounded by his most beloved sister and his only friend, having no duty to set them apart, he wished he could just remain here. And yet, yet a nagging feeling in the back of his mind kept trying to pull him out of this situation, something he couldn’t quite remember anymore. 

He was made to blow the candles, and he wished that time could just stop if this was reality, or that he wouldn’t wake up if this was a dream. 

“Let’s raise a toast!” Jack blurted, earning himself a surprised look from Lacie, and probably an unimpressed -and slightly disbelieving- look from Oswald himself.

“Jack, this is _tea_ ,” he called to his attention.

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Lacie exclaimed, and he knew then the battle was lost.

Because it was his idea, Jack was made to do it first, and with a smile that made him look sweet but that would’ve made anyone else look stupid, he raised his cup.

“To the three of us, and our friendship!” and honestly, only Jack could get away with something so cheesy and get them to smile for it.

“To my brother’s cuteness!” Lacie raised next, making Jack’s smile wider and Oswald’s blush deeper.

Two expectant sets of eyes fell on him then, and he looked around before hesitantly raising his own cup.

“To a normal life,” he concluded, making green and red eyes shine with barely contained glee. “I thought you were acting weird, but now that’s the Oswald we know!” Jack summarized and Lacie giggled.

The sound of laughter and merry conversation soon filled the place, and slowly, suddenly, it started to fade away at the same time as his vision grew darker, until he was again only surrounded by void.

* * *

It was snowing, and he was on the ground, Charlotte by his side, Levi  and Leo in the back of his mind — the front mind he took forcefully and wrongfully. And he was disappearing as a result of that, to the utter oblivion he condemned Lacie to with his own hands. And where Jack was inevitably following soon, and he thought all of it was fitting, in some twisted sense. Had he been dreaming? It looked like it. His time was over and in a last effort, he looked up at Oz, at Jack’s faint presence behind him, and he thought he could see tears welling up in the man’s eyes, even when he looked completely clueless to it all.

Maybe then, it hadn’t all been a dream. Maybe the Abyss had allowed him a glimpse of what could have been in consolation.

Maybe this was a farewell to this world, but there were many other worlds where he still belonged.

His eyes closed, and the void that followed was forever.


End file.
